Nature1
by The Zetas are coming
Summary: We all know how Matt used a Ouija Board when he was young, right? Well what if his past is still haunting him?... Name has been changed from 'This is the End'.


**A/N: This story would be a whole lot better if I knew what I want to write about. Of course it's gonna be Muse, but what's gonna happen? I don't know. Maybe I'll get the hang of later during the story.**

…

**Ok, I've been staring at my computer screen for the past 10 minutes, and I still have no idea what to write about. And… GO!**

Matthew Bellamy woke slowly to the sound of talking drifting up the stairs and into his bedroom. He got out of bed and shivered when his bare feet hit the cold floor. He glanced at the clock that currently read 5 in the morning. What was a ten year old doing up this late?

He opened the door, jumping slightly when it squeaked, and continued down the hall. The pads of his feet made a soft _pitt patt _noise as he tiptoed down the stairs, keeping one hand on the rail at all times.

"Mom?" he asked, confused when the dark haired woman first came into sight. As he walked into the living room, he found not only his dad, but his older brother—Paul—all sitting in a circle around small, cardboard rectangle on the floor. At closer examination, he realized that it was numbered from zero to nine with the alphabet below it. The top left corner said 'yes', while the right said 'no'.

"What are you doing up?" she asked.

"I heard you talking. What are you doing," he questioned back, not in a sarcastic, disrespectful way, but in a curious manner.

"It's nothing, honey. Go on up, and I'll tuck you in in a minute," Marilyn told him anxiously.

He crossed his arms stubbornly. "No, I want to play, too," he said.

"No, no, no, sweetheart," she stood quickly, worried what the spirits would think about such a childish word for the contacting of the dead. "It's not a game, this is serious. And you need to go back to bed."

"Well can I do it too?" he asked. "Whatever you're doing."

"_What?_ Of course not! You're way too young to be-"

"Marilyn," George Bellamy, Matthew's father, spoke up. "Paul was about this age when he found out. I'm sure he can handle it."

"I didn't want Paul to find out in the first place," she argued. "There's no way I'm going to let my other baby boy get involved with this. It's not right for a mother to let your sons do this. I won't let him," she said sternly.

"Nothing has happened so far," Paul said. "I don't see the harm." Unlike most brothers, Paul and Matt hardly ever fought. The age difference probably helped, too. Paul was the big, protective brother that the strange boy needed at age.

Marilyn looked up to her youngest son, pleading him with her eyes to just leave it alone. He didn't need to speak for her to know that it was too late; everyone else had ganged up on her.

"Alright," she sighed, giving in. "Sit down."

"Thanks Mum," he plopped down beside her, a big grin on his face.

"Son," George's gravelly voice came out as a whisper. "You can't go to school and tell your friends about what we're about to show you, okay?"

"Okay. What _are _we about to do?"

"This is called a Ouija Board," Marilyn spoke instead.

"What's if for?" Matt asked.

She sighed once more. She hated getting her son into this. "Most people use it for contacting spirits; the dead. Others use it for connecting with their conscious; they believe that they can contact some sort of self-power that you can't normally use. Though many people believe it does nothing; that it's only good for playing a game, or scaring your friends."

She was going to say more, but Matt cut her off. "What are we going to use it for?"

"We are going to talk to spirits," she told him.

"Oh," he said, thoughtfully. How long had this been going on? How long had he not known about it?

"Okay," Paul said. "Let's get started."

"Matt, maybe you should sit out this first round," his mom suggested.

"Marilyn…" her husband warned. Why wouldn't she just let him participate? He could see that his son was practically vibrating in his spot on floor, eyes shining in excitement and anticipation for what was about to happen.

"I know," she told him. "I just want him to watch this first time though."

George could see the logic in that, and nodded in agreement.

Matt watched as the other three bent over the board, placing their fingertips on a small triangle he had failed to notice before. Looking closer, he could tell that there was a clear, plastic circle in the middle. He figured it was used to see the letter below.

"Is there anyone here that would like to talk to us?" Paul asked. It shocked Matt to see his brother say it so sternly, and controlling. The older boy was usually very laid back, always joking. He had never seen Paul so serious.

Very slowly, the wooden triangle – which he would soon find out is called a 'planchette' – began to move across the board. He watched as it spelled out the first word.

**M-A-T-T**.

Marilyn looked to her son wearily. She was about to end it all when George spoke up. "You want to speak to Matt?"

It moved to the far left.

**YES**.

George could see the worry in his wife's eyes, so he spoke calmly again, more for her than the spirit. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we can't let you do that right now. He's just watching."

**M-A-T-T**.

"No," the boy in question's father spoke sternly. "I already told you, you can't talk to him."

**I-Y-C-E-G.**

"Would you like to try again?" Paul asked this time. Once again, it moved to the top left.

**YES. C-U-R-S-E.**

"What about a curse?" George asked.

**M-A-T-T-H-E-W. **

It moved to the bottom right this time. **GOODBYE.**

And with that, it was still. With one glance at his mother, Paul could see tears streaming down her face in worry for her youngest son. "I told you this was a bad idea," she sobbed. "I told you."

George hugged her close. "It's ok sweetheart," he soothed, not sure if he really believed in the words he whispered himself. He looked up to Paul. "Would you go put your brother to bed, please?"

The older boy nodded, and placed his hand on the already standing Matt's shoulder. "Come on, let's go upstairs," he led him up.

Walking into the room, Matt shuddered, both out of fear and cold. His room was always the coldest in the house.

Paul tucked the young boy into bed, covering him up with the large comforter. "Goodnight Matthew."

"Goodnight," he spoke for the first time since they had started the session downstairs. He was hardly ever scared by anything, so he was surprised by the genuine fear that was coursing through his veins.

Unfortunately, his older brother noticed. He sat down on Matt's bed. "It's going to be ok," he comforted the poor boy. "Mom's just a little shaken up. I'm sure everything is going to be fine."

Matt nodded, not sure what to say. With one last goodnight, the older boy stood and left the room, heading to his own.

It took Matthew forever to fall asleep listening to his parents' hushed voices down the hall, but eventually, he felt his eyes drooping closed.

Just before he fell into the darkness though, he heard one last voice whisper to him. One that wasn't Paul's, Marilyn's, or George's, or even his own. It was one that sent chills up his spine; that would always echo in his head for the rest of his life.

"Good night Matthew Bellamy," it spoke. "I'll see you soon…"

**A/N: Wow. So inspiration finally paid me a visit. Tell me what you think. Oh, and I'm not sure just how accurate my information is on the Ouija Board is. I don't know how trust worthy the website I was on is.**

**If you see anything about that or anything else, please let me know.**

**Other than that, PEACE OUT!**


End file.
